


La Chancla

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, La Chancla, i feel like la chancla is an appropriate warning for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:26:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Latinx fear La Chancla, no matter the distance from Mamá.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Chancla

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Dextra2 and Prumery for aiding me with this (Prumery for the part in Spanish). Also possible ooc warning. First voltron fic and all so characters can be hard to grasp and binge watching the show does not help solve this conundrum.

It was the longest time of peace they had had in a while, which left them feeling bored out of their minds more than anything. Pidge confided themselves to their computers, attempting to see if they could get some form of radio communications out here, still attempting to listen for their family, but also on Galran forces, hopefully perfecting it more and more to not allow it to leave a traceable trace. Keith -- or Space Nico Di Angelo as Lance enjoyed calling him when he was chatting with Hunk –- found himself cooped up in the training center, getting closer and closer to passing the level three simulation, and yet still having it so far from his reach. Shiro was with Coran and Allura, discussing maps and tactics, next courses of action to take and where they should be heading out from here, even in times of peace, one could never be too ready. This left Hunk and Lance to their own devices. They hadn’t hung out as much as they used to when they found the blue lion and became paladins. They used to spend hours talking shit about various gossips in the Garrison. They were salt buddies, through and through.

 

They found each other in the kitchen, sitting in the kitchen, chatting in a familiar language none of the other crewmembers understood.

 

“But seriously, we gotta find some sombreros and guitars like, we gotta do that mariachi impression, it’s gonna be so sick.”

 

“How are we even going to find sombreros and guitars, I mean, we’re in space. On a spaceship, in space.” Replied Hunk as he rummaged around looking for something edible to cook with. He couldn’t wait to get back to Earth, he’s been dying for something spicy for a while and the Altean food sludge was just not cutting it for him.

 

Lance raised a hand, mouth ajar, before promptly closing it eyebrows furrowing in sudden discouraged realization.

 

“Oh. Right.” There was a pause. “Okay, but there’s gotta be a space equivalent to a guitar here somewhere. Maybe even a Space guitar! And, Hunk, buddy, we can make paper hat sombreros. Just like those white kids who make paper hat boats.” Hunk looked up to stare at Lance, giving him a ‘really?’ look before returning to his search.

 

“I think you would have found a guitar sooner, Lance. I mean, have you seen your crazy guitar finding powers, it’s almost as crazy as moms aims when throwing la Chancla.”

 

“Fuck, please don’t talk about my mom’s La Chancla aim.” Hunk looked up immediately. There was a sudden silent atmosphere around them. They stared at one another, none of them saying a word. Lance’s eyes widened suddenly. Hunk shook his head.

 

“You said it.”

 

“It can’t reach me out here in space.” Hunk stared at him, before swiftly turning to the cabinets and walked away, leaving Lance to panic to himself.

 

“Hunk, it can’t reach me out here in space, right?” There was silence.

 

“Right?” Another pause.

 

“I mean, were eons of light years away… get it together Lance, some stupid sandal isn’t going to come and haunt you. Not even Mamá is that good,” he mumbled to himself. He decided to walk it off. Years of fearing La Chancla were just taunting him now. He was in space, it’s not like it has powers that allows it to travel through the space-time continuum. That was just crazy. He shook his head. Yeah, it was just his paranoia talking. He decided to head back to his room, sleeping well enough to know he was safe from fear.

 

Three days later, while being forced to group train with Keith to practice better team cooperation, he felt something hit his head, causing him to loose balance in an ineloquent manner. The simulation was cut completely, Keith turned around, about to yell, when he noted Lance holding up a bejewelled pink sandal. There was horror and anger on his face. Lance stared up at Hunk from where he was in the training Center control room.

 

“Dude, I thought we don’t Chancla each other.” This was a horrid betrayal in trust. Hunk’s voice immediately burst through the microphone.

 

“I didn’t throw it.” He honestly sounded offended that Lance would even think he would do that to him.

 

Lance tentatively held the sandal with his thumb and his index finger, before immediately dropping it. He looked up to Hunk, the same blank expression was written on both of their faces.

 

Keith still barely understood what exactly was going on and what ‘Chancla’ was, but the yellow and the blue paladin ignored him for this current baffling dilemma.

 

“Holy shit. Do Latina moms actually have superpowers…?” The question was left in the air. Both Hunk and Lance quickly made their escape from the training center, leaving a very confused Keith and Coran in their wake. The pink sandal all that was left of the events.

 

They didn’t even want to talk about what had happened in the training center, whenever one of the other paladins, Allura or Coran attempted to breach the subject, they would pretend they couldn’t speak English anymore thus forcing the subject to be immediately be dropped. It was a shame Allura had yet to install Spanish to her universal translator, because it was times like these they needed it.

 

Two days after the events of the training center, when Shiro attempted to cohort Lance on talking about the pink sandal incident, as if on cue from the heavens itself, a pink glittery projectile made contact with Lance’s head.

 

“Hunk seriously. Stop doing La Chancla!” Lance yelled out in angered Spanish, leaving Shiro to just barely understand what the blue paladin was conveying. He looked to the object that was next to Lance’s head: the matching pink sandal.

 

“They’re getting faster,” was Hunk’s retort, loud, echoing throughout the Castleship. There were footsteps that were coming down the hall, Hunk appeared, followed by Pidge. “We must be getting closer.” Lance raised his eyebrows perplexed. “That or your mom stole a ship and she’s making her way towards us as we speak.”

 

“Don’t. Don’t joke about that.” Shiro tapped Lance on the shoulder, dragging him away from the conversation in Spanish he had been having with Hunk to one in English. He held up a pair of worn out pink sandals. Some of the gems placed on it when first made had fallen off with age, the sizing of the shoe taken away from wear and tear. There was even the repugnant smell of sweat.

 

“Do you recognize these?” Yes. Yes he did, and he honestly wished he didn’t. No he was not going to believe this was possible. Hunk looked to the sandals Shiro held in his hands.

 

“Hey aren’t tho-“ Lance immediately cut him off.

 

“Dude we’re in space, that’s not possible.” Shiro raised an eyebrow, curious. More footsteps, and the rest of the crew arrived.

 

“We heard yelling, is everything alright?” Allura examined the scene, taking in and trying to deduce what exactly had occurred. The most obvious was Shiro and Lance: Shiro kneeled in front of Lance, holding pink open footed shoes, and Lance looking as if death themselves had greeted him. She looked up, noting the same expression on Hunk’s face, Pidge behind him, attempting to deduce the scene like she was.

 

“I’ll ask you again Lance,” Shiro’s voice was calm, his fellow paladin already looked like he had scene a ghost and getting angry wasn’t going to answer his questions, “do you recognize these?” Allura looked back to Shiro.

 

A pause.

 

“…Yeah,” was Lance’s mumbled reply.

 

“Can you elaborate on what they are?” Lance looked to away, than to Hunk, who meekly shrugged his shoulders.

 

“My mom’s sandals.” There was a very loud snort from the general area of where Keith was standing.

 

“You brought your mom’s sandals with you?” He asked incredulously.

 

“I didn’t bring them,” he sent a glare in Keith’s general direction before turning his gaze back to Shiro, who didn’t seem to really appreciate his attempted excuse, “I’m serious, I have no idea how they got here, swear on my mom’s head.” Shiro sighed and raised himself from the floor.

 

“Alright, I believe you. Head to the infirmary to get that bruised checked up on.” Lance could tell he didn’t peculiarly believe him; he couldn’t even believe it himself. He tentatively raised his hand to his head as the room cleared out except for Hunk and Pidge. It pulsed and he finally felt the pain hit him.

 

“Dude, you didn’t just swear on your mom’s head you have no idea why this happened.” Hunk outstretched his hand to help Lance to his feet. He rubbed his head, wincing slightly. They began a small trudge to the infirmary, honestly all he really needed was some ice and he was going to be fine.

 

“Hunk, I seriously have no idea why her sandals are here. It’s creepy, how after cursing suddenly I'm hit by La Chancla. I thought it was you just trying to piss me off and screw me over, but like. _These are my mom’s sandals_.”

 

“So what I understood from Hunk, ‘La Chancla’ is this Latinx phenomena that uses a flip flop or sandal to teach a form of respect through punishment?” asked Pidge. Hunk nodded his head and Lance covered his ears.

 

“Please let’s just. Not talk about it. I’m already crept out by this.” Lance shivered. If his mamá really did have powers that allowed her to throw those stupid sandals wherever she wanted, he could no longer rest in peace. The reign of Terror of La Chancla returned once more.

 

Between Keith smug smirk and having to sleep with one eye open, Lance felt himself more on edge than normal. Pidge continuously told him to breath in and breath out, it was scientifically impossible for a mere sandal to travel so many light-years in such a short amount of time.

 

“No you don’t understand. This is a Latina mom were dealing with.” Lance’s ever so solid retort.

 

“And this is actual science, physics to be exact. Your mother couldn’t have condensed the time space continuum to allow fast travel for a pair of sandals.” There was an amused tone to Pidge’s voice, as if the possibility that Lance’s mom was even capable of accomplishing a task that was most certainly impossible.

 

That still didn’t make Lance feel better.

 

“Allura’s calling for us, sounds kind of important.” Pidge rushed on ahead while Lance slowly dragged his feet. When they finally all gathered, she pointed to a specific area on her map. It zoomed in, showing a spaceship.

 

“There's an unidentified spacecraft approaching the Castleship, crossing path in minutes to an hour" Allura wasn’t sure exactly what it was. They confirmed it wasn’t Galran, the ship looked nothing like it, and from what she could tell, the ship was archaic, and yet traveled at a rather fast velocity.

 

"It's been nice knowing you all, it's been a long good run as the blue paladin." Everyone turned to Lance, and everyone except for Hunk found themselves confused by the statement.

 

"La Chancla has found you." He began to chant.

 

"La Chancla."

 

"La Chancla."

 

"La Chancla." It was ominous in tone, as if pure horror awaited Lance with whatever this ‘La Chancla’ is.

 

"Hunk shut up."

 

"La Chancla." Hunk piped up. Lance glared to him.

 

"I'll La Chancla you if you don't shut up." With this obvious threat, him lifting his leg, ready to take of his shoe and aim to his close target, Hunk understood the message loud and clear.

 

"What is this 'La Chancla?" The so innocent question Allura had asked was also on the minds of Coran, Shiro and Keith, who had no idea what exactly this thing was apart from the fact it was horrifying in nature if the reaction the blue and the yellow paladin were displaying.

 

Both paladins in question unwilling to explain immediately, Pidge took it as a chance to jump in and inform the Altean princess on an aspect of Earth culture.

 

"From what I've gathered, it's a Hispanic, or Latinx, cultural phenomena that keeps young children in line by throwing sandals at them." Princess Allura nodded her head, intrigued by what exactly this was. If two of her paladins reacted like this to suck a thing, she might even consider using it herself.

 

"My mom's here to murder me." Lance definitively sounded like he was about to shit his pants.

 

"I highly doubt it's your mother, Lance." Pidge replied, they were sure they had already gone over this conversation before.

 

"The Unidentified spaceship is requesting video feed, Allura, do we allow?" Coran’s voice resonated over the ruckus the paladins had created. She thought for a moment before she nodded her head.

 

"Allow."

 

Like a tornado, the shrill voice was rapid fire.

 

"ESTUPIDO CABRON, NO TE A DICHO QUE NO ESTES DICIENDO MALAS PALABRAS? Y TODAVIA LO HACES, QUE NO TE ENSEÑE A TENER RESPETO?" Lance felt himself fall to floor in surprise, mouth hanging open. Hunk was the same. In the video feed, a small woman, most likely in her fifties with greying brown hair and a striking resemblance to Lance was angrily swinging around a sandal in her hand. The rest of the team too felt a sort of surreal feeling come over them.

 

"SHE'S HERE." Lance yelled in fright.

 

"Holy shit."

**Author's Note:**

> The part in Spanish is roughly "YOU LITTLE SHIT I TOLD YOU TO NOT SWEAR AND YOU STILL DO IT ANYWAY HAVE I RAISED YOU WITH NO MANNERS?" edit: ty kirbita22 for pointing that out!


End file.
